Yesterday, To-Day, And For Ever: Book Xi. - The Last Judgement Poem by Edward Henry Bickersteth

When first the armies of the blest, recall'd
By Michael's trumpet, left the gloomy depths
Of Hades, where the damned, fiends and men,
Lay in the gulf of Tartarus o'erthrown,
There was an outcry as of those who wept,
And gnashing as of teeth, and passionate groans
Of spirits in pain, and clanking as of fetters,
That fill'd those dolorous abodes, though used
To every sight and every sound of woe,
With unimaginable dread, the first
Loud wail of endless bottomless despair.
But when, as those Sabbatic ages roll'd,
The Omnipresent Eye of Righteousness
Rested on each, nor moved, nor swerved, nor changed,
Nor of its terrors mitigated aught, -
Eternal Equity enveloping
The passions of iniquity with flame, -
The cries grew fainter and more faint, until
Oppressive silence like a leaden weight
Brooded upon the Deep unbroken, save
When some dark memory of forgotten guilt
Flash'd on a tortured conscience, and a low
Moan of remorse bewail'd in that red stain
An added anguish for eternity.

Yes, there was silence, silence but no sleep:
Sleep on the weary eyelids of the lost
Hath never rested, nor can rest: and thought
Was terribly awake in every heart,
Traversing and retraversing the past,
And auguring at times with frightful truth
The interminable future. But in none
Tyrannic conscience stirr'd such inward storm
As in the Arch-apostate. For long while
Nor moan, nor motion in his fetter'd limbs,
Nor sign upon his faded brow betray'd
The suppress'd agony: but at the last,
Like Pharaoh scourged by those resistless plagues
Which crush'd, but could not kill his obstinate pride,
In a low whisper that yet thrill'd through hell,
As one communing with himself he said,
'The Lord is righteous; I and mine have sinn'd.'

And now that he had spoken, others spake:
And each, beneath his individual load
Of guilt and punishment and fear, confess'd
The madness and the bitterness of crime.
Their words were few: but in that heavy air
They sounded like the muffled bell, that tolls
Above a murderer ere he dies. Sometimes
A fiend in torments thought of early days
And raptures now for ever lost, and moan'd,
'Fool, fool, to barter heaven for endless hell!'
And sometimes one with fearful balancing
Would weigh the pleasures 'gainst the pains of sin,
And with a sigh of desperate remorse
Inly would murmur, 'Tekel.' But with most
The judgement and the wrath to come fulfill'd
Their dark imaginings with darker dread, -
'The worst not come; yet what of terrible
Can ever be more terrible than this?'

Thus centuries roll'd slowly by: and now
Earth's holy Sabbath of Millennial rest
Was drawing to its outmost verge, when lo,
Once more through those vast depths reverberate
The voice of the Arch-adversary pierced,
Though weak and painful, fearfully distinct;
As not in guile, for guile was useless now
When God's Eye through and through search'd out the folds
Of next to infinite duplicity:
Submiss, but not in penitence or grief,
He thus gave broken utterance to thoughts,
Fruit of a thousand years of agony:

'Yes, we have sinn'd, I most, I chiefly; and ye,
My comrades in apostasy and pain,
Have sinn'd in following me. Madness to deem
We could do battle with Almighty Power,
Or with a measurable guilt elude
The counsels of immeasurable Light!
Enough: I see it now. Yet what remains?
The past is even to Omnipotence
Irrevocable. Shall we humbly sue
For mercy, and fall low before the throne,
And all on bended knees send up one cry,
'Spare us, O Lord! who bitterly repent
Of our stupendous folly and misdeed,' -
And urge the prayer, if it must needs be so,
For ten times ten Millennial days like this,
Or that re-multiplied a thousand times
Ten thousand (an eternity beyond
Would swallow this as ocean sucks a shower),
Until our tide of importunity,
Swelling above the songs of Cherubim,
Obtain at last from wearied Justice that
Which Justice might unblamed deny to less
Unconquerable resolve? But is it true
We bitterly repent us of our deeds?
Ah! comrades, search your hearts as I search mine.
The issue we repent, but not the act.
Of all our multitudes, rack'd as we are,
Is there one grieved for having grieved his God?
Is there one bosom that could ever glow
With love towards Him who cast us hither down?
One right hand that could ever touch again
The string of Hallelujah? I trow not.
Others may do' it - think of them if ye will,
Haply with envy - but not we. Our spirits
Are wrench'd for ever and averse from God.
Thus much at least this torturing flame reveals.
And knowing no repentance, in God's ear
What would avail us words of penitence?
Tush, would Eternal Justice be cajoled,
Or wearied with our importunities?
It cannot be: there is no streak of light.
For man, tempted by us, by us seduced,
The Son of the Eternal must needs die,
Die in his stead, ere Mercy could prevail,
And God's Great Spirit descending recreate
His marr'd and shatter'd image. But for us
No Christ has His blood; no Spirit of love
In my obdurate conscience or in yours
Awakens one response. It cannot be.
Our lot is irredeemable: our fall
Is final: we are damn'd for evermore.'

Again was silence for a space in hell,
So terrible, that only the quick breath
Of spirits in pain was heard like tongues of flame
Sibilant in the sultry atmosphere:
But shortly, Satan sighing thus resumed:

'That which is done can never be undone.
Believe me, I who led you on to ruin,
And as is righteous suffer most, have tried
All pathways of return, and thought, and thought,
Till thought itself was vacancy and reel'd
Upon the giddy pinnacle it clomb, -
There is no hope. How is that possible,
Which we can never ask, nor God vouchsafe?
Friends, reconciliation cannot be,
Nor war, nor peace: one thing alone remains, -
Submission. Underneath His scorching Eye
Who knows what anguish this averment costs,
Who knows herein I utter all my heart,
I say submission to His iron rod
Whose golden sceptre we have spurn'd for ever;
Here lies the only unction of our woes:
Submission, which persisted in, despite
All cravings from without and from within,
May bring at least escape from this abyss,
And from the fiercer lake which burns below.
Hearken, ye know upon the scrolls of truth
It stands recorded when the Sabbath rest
Is o'er, we shall be loosen'd from our chains
A little season. Wherefore? for man's sake?
Not wholly: God deals equally with all.
One trial more is there accorded us.
'Tis true, the Oracle proceeds, that we
Shall quickly with mankind conspire again
To mar His reign, and lead apostate earth
Against the embattled army of His saints:
But this is ours to do, or not to do.
There is no Fate, as once I madly thought,
Which writes decrees immutably ordain'd
Other than creature will, and increate
Foreknowledge of the workings of that will
In Him who governs all. And for myself,
This by my right hand have I straightly sworn, -
Never, if instant monarchy were mine,
Never to gratify revenge or pride
Never, ye all soliciting the deed,
Insensate, never will I raise an arm
Against Omniscient and Eternal Power.'

He paused, and hollow murmurs of assent,
Such murmurs at midnight the desert wind
Wakes in Gomorrah's dead mephitic sea,
Crept over the abyss: so pleasing seem'd
The least abatement of their vivid pangs.
And readily they pledged their dismal oath,
If only' escape from this Tartarean pit
Were granted, never more to violate
With deeds of rapine or designs of wrong
The kingdom of the Prince of Peace. Ah, fools,
Tempters too long, who now misdeem'd themselves
In their own might against temptation proof!

But barely had the echo of their words
Died in the gloomy distances of night,
When lo, the thing they long'd for, was: their chains
Were loosen'd: the terrific flame of fire
Assuaged its lightnings: the infernal gates
Recoiling by some viewless hand were thrown
Wide open; and a Dreadful Voice proclaim'd.
'The roadway of return to earth is free;
But touch not mankind lest far worse ensue.'

Straightway, like that Apocalyptic smoke
By John seen rising from the bottomless pit,
Whence issued swarms of locusts on the earth
All arm'd for battle, - through the open gates
Of terror-stricken Hades they ascended,
And through that lustreless defile of clouds
Which led to the expanse, and through the fields
Of ether, and the blasted stars which paled
Sensibly as their ruinous train swept by,
Startling the sons of men. But 'mongst them soon
Arriving, to their old familiar haunts
Of earth, of air, or ocean, they repair'd -
Unheralded, except Creation sigh'd
Through all her lengths and breadths and depths and heights
A sigh prophetic of her latest pangs.

Three days the prince of darkness, day and night,
Though night was now what day and had once appear'd,
Flew with disastrous pinion to and fro
Over the renovated earth. No shore
Escaped the gloomy visitation. Straight
From Arctic to Antarctic climes he pass'd,
And in the dubious light from East to West.
Only so steering his pernicious course
As to avoid Emmanuel's saintly land,
Outstripp'd the rising sun. The glorious sight
Fill'd him with envy and amaze: so soon
His footprints, as it seem'd, had been effaced:
So transient evil's film; so naturally
Goodness and mercy had reclaim'd their own.
Not that the sparse and rare remains of ill
Escaped his sympathetic eye, or fail'd
To' awaken pleasure in the Evil One:
But these were few and far. The earth was full
Of gladness; and her hymns of ceaseless praise,
Rich with the music of Rival's name,
Grated worse discord in his ear than all
Hell's wailings. But for full three days and nights
The memory of his dark Millennial prison
And his late dominant resolve suppress'd,
Albeit with inward agony untold,
Utterance of hatred or by deed or word
Or louring frown.

But then, as morning broke,
It chanced he lighted there where Penuel, -
The seraph who first dropp'd on heaven's bright floor
Such contrite tears as the unfall'n may weep, -
Shed fragrance on the bridal couch of two
Only last eve united in the links
Of marriage. Through her half-closed lids the bride
Glanced bashfully upon her sleeping spouse
As glad to find him not awaked, that she
Might gaze embolden'd with less burning cheek
Upon his lofty brow. Sweetly she quaff'd
The odors, and imbibed the quicken'd air,
Nor knew the perfume was from heavenly bowers,
Nor human love was fann'd by angel wings.
It was a scene of which the happy earth
Had myriads not unlike. But Penuel's watch,
So like his own in Eden o'er the sleep
Of our first parents, stirr'd such fell despite,
Such envy' and enmity and withering pride
In Satan's breast, that, when the seraph flew,
His errand done, swift as a beam of light,
To Zion's golden gates and thence to heaven,
The fiend no more refrain'd himself, but scowl'd
Defiance on the sky, and spake aloud:

'God, this is worse than hell. Here rent in twain
Myself against myself wage deadly strife.
What see I here but love? innocent love?
Love, which I share not, nor can ever share,
But crave with inextinguishable desire
To shrivel all its beauty like a scroll
Now and for ever. Rest, proud heart, be still.
How rest amid this restless rising tide?
Anguish intolerable: not these twain,
Nor millions like upon this peopled world.
One world might be endured. But, maddening thought,
These are but firstfruits of the things to be.
Love must needs multiply. Nothing but sin
Can kill its growth. Prolific tree of life,
Whose seed is in itself upon the earth!
And Earth, her granaries overstock'd ere long,
Doubtless will sow the starry heavens with love,
New worlds on worlds impregning (who shall fix
A term to that increase?) while I and mine, -
They multiplying more and more, we not, -
Become through endless ages less and less,
Less great, less formidable, less observed,
Nothing or worse than nothing; - gazing-stocks,
At which the elect will point and cry, Behold
The fruit of disobedience, and fear;
Poor motes, floating amid a flood of light;
And every new apocalypse of grace,
To Michael and his peers new bliss, new heaven,
To us and ours new shame, new loss, new hell;
Our torment more, our power to injure less.
Better strike now. Better to be abhorr'd
Than pitied. Mar this second paradise,
And perish rather. What forefends? Not God,
Or He had never brought me hither again.
Nor His bright winged ministries: mine arm
Hath not yet lost its native puissance:
Nor men, too easy victims, flesh and blood,
Unfenced in spotless purity like those
Who fell in Eden, and through long disuse
Untaught to cope with cruelty and craft.
What hinders? Nothing but my mighty oath,
Sworn only to myself and mine, from which
I therefore can absolve myself and them;
And they, so willing, loose themselves and me.
Ha! my strong lust wrestles with my resolve,
Which waxes weak and weaker every pulse.
The inevitable end approaches. Death,
Whatever death may be to spirits like us,
Were easement to this riven and ruptured life.
But haply, ere we perish, we shall drink,
Sweeter than nectar to our lips, the cup
Of desolating desperate revenge.'

And like a cloud with tempest charged, which rolls
Suddenly o'er the azure firmament
Its darkness in the teeth of wind, he swept
Over a sleeping world. Little reck'd men
Of danger. But his gloomy hosts he found
Beyond his utmost expectation ripe
For new revolt. Their will, less strong than his,
Had struggled less against temptation's tide:
Their foresight less was sooner at a fault:
Brief respite banish'd centuries of pain.
Had they not fasted a Millennial fast
From deeds of violence and wrong? And now,
Driven by fierce winter from Siberian steppes
Around a camp's fast waning fires, they fix'd
Their ravenous glances on a world which lay
Basking in unsuspicious Sabbath rest, -
Near and delicious booty. Every hour
Inflamed them; and their fretting cowardice
Only awaited one to lead them forth,
Fit captain for fit crew.

The time was short;
But fiendish malice made short work. The earth
Was one of speech and language. Myriads teem'd
In former wilds: and all the sons of men
Were link'd in countless bonds of intercourse.
No wasting war check'd the full tide of life.
Oceans were walls no more, but voyaged now,
No storms occurrent, with electric speed
Were highways of the nations. Science ask'd
Of Nature's limitless munificence
Vast largesses, nor met refusal: love
Won easily what she had grudged to lust;
Millennial life ripening her fruits. All lands
Were wont to gather now in holy tryst
At Zion's glad memorial festivals
With greater ease than Israel of old
Flock'd to the temple gates of Solomon.
Thought circulated like the light. Mankind
Was one great family, and earth one home:
Source of innumerable joys, when all
Was purity and evil was unknown,
Or known was instantly repress'd with good;
But of infectious pestilence, if once
The foe infuse his venom unobserved
Into the human heart, - which now befell.

Watchman, what of the night? Night is far spent:
Morn is at hand, the morn of endless day.
Broods yet a tempest? Yet the last, hell's last
Expiring struggle, heaven's last victory:
Beyond is cloudless light and perfect peace.

Yet seem'd it passing miracle, that they,
Who lived beneath the shadow of the throne,
And saw the glory of the Prince, and knew
That Canaan, of earth's provinces elect,
Was as His temple, Israel His priests,
The Church His Bride, and holy seraphim
The servants of His pleasure, they should heed
Infatuate the Arch-tempter's glozing speech
And yield - how easily deceived, how soon
Deceivers! It was passing miracle.
God only knows the fathomless profound
Of man. Yet peradventure otherwise,
Maugre the lessons of six thousand years,
Earth, mother of the human race, and nurse
Of countless generations yet unborn,
Had rested in her native strength, nor learn'd
The creature by itself can never stand,
Mutable, fallible, and on its God
For righteousness dependent as for life.
Pride falls for ever now: and lowliness
Meekly receives her amaranthine crown.

But the last strife was terrible. Each fiend
Was now as Satan, train'd in guilt and guile,
Student and scholar of the human heart,
And skilful when and where to show himself
Clad in angelic light. Quickly they saw
The perilous exaltation free from fear
Of those who revell'd in Millennial peace.
They mark'd the easy avenue, they gauged
The powers of man, the limits of his power,
And what beyond was feasible to hope:
Long life was his, not immortality;
Swift motion, but not flight; far-reaching fields
Of knowledge, but yet wider lay beyond;
Earth was earth; men were men, not angels; saints,
Not seraphs; though celestial intercourse
Was oft within terrestrial homes vouchsafed.
Hence first the spirits of evil in men's hearts,
Echoing the serpent's lie a million times,
Clandestinely infused mistrust, and plied
The vacillating will with hateful doubt:
Could that be love which circumscribed their power?
Why were they fetter'd to this narrow orb?
Why not, as angels, free to range the heavens?
Why this delay of glory? Could it be
That He, who gave so much, begrudged them more?
Nor marvel, if such thoughts, which once avail'd
To drag archangels from their thrones, had power
To baffle unsuspecting human hearts,
To try their faith who lean'd upon their God,
And taint the rest. No longer instant wrath
Visibly on transgression fell. For now,
As once on Sinai in awed Israel's sight,
God had retired into His secret place
Of thunder, and had wrapt His glory round
In swaddling bands of darkness. Hell meanwhile
Embolden'd show'd its lying signs of power
And fiery portents in the sky: till earth,
Heaven's mirror late, became again the haunt
Of fear, suspicion, hatred, violence, -
All save Emmanuel's land. Yet think not all
Fell from their loyalty. Myriads were found
Faithful in every region under heaven.
And speedily, for half a week of years
Saw this rebellion schemed and swoll'n and crush'd,
War reassumed her bloody car, her sons
Wielding infernal powers unguess'd of yore,
And drave the saints before her: not a few,
Like Enoch, rapt from the tumultuous strife
To the calm presence of the Prince of Peace,
Companions of the Virgin Bride: the rest
Flocking by day and night, by land and sea,
Under the shadow of that holy cloud
Which o'er the height of Zion hung sublime.

But now the foe infuriated draws
All nations from the fourfold winds, himself
Incarnate, and in blasphemous despair
Or bitter mockery of his last defeat,
As Gog and Magog, leads his armies forth
To compass the beloved city. Earth
Groan'd underneath the tread of armed men:
The winds and oceans chafed to bear their fleets.
The very sky was frighted by the rush
Of fiendish wings. Baleful conspiracy!
Devils and men at last in open league
Assuming empire with a front, to less
Than strength Almighty, irresistible.
Darkening all lands they come, but densest where
Euphrates roll'd her ancient tide of wealth
Through Shinar's plains: for in their pride they ween'd
To storm the citadel of heaven and climb
The ladder of crystaline gold there set,
And leading higher than the stars of God.

Ah! blind rebellion, madness to the last,
Infatuate, suicidal, desperate!

The latest band of unpolluted saints
Was gather'd now beneath the shadowing wings
Of that Shekinah cloud which stretch'd its shade
from Lebanon to Nile; and now the hosts
Of Satan flock'd around the holy realm
By foot unblest as yet inviolate;
When from the frowning heavens again that sound,
Which shook the first fell council of the damn'd,
More terrible than thunder vibrated
Through every heart, Jehovah's awful laugh,
Mocking their fears and scorning their designs,
The laughter of Eternal love incensed.
From pole to pole it peal'd. And lo, the cloud,
Whence it appear'd to issue, spread abroad
Over the rebel hosts its pregnant gloom,
And, louring, in the twinkling of an eye
Flash'd into flame. The dreadful storm of fire
Bore ever down, precipitately down,
Scathing the spirits of evil first (of power
These everlasting burnings to destroy
Spiritual and carnal essences alike),
Still down, - though not before a whisper ran
Through those pale ranks like that which blanch'd the lips
Of Pharaoh's bravest in the yawning deep, -
'God fights for Zion; let us flee His face.'
It was too late: for down, still ever down,
The arrows of destruction fell, the flames
Baffling escape or flight. And now the Lord
Himself on the Arch-adversary laid
The right hand of Omnipotence. The touch
Alone was foretaste of the second death,
Such death as damned spirits for ever die.
He shudder'd and was still. Nor less his hosts,
Whelm'd by the glory' of God, and manacled
Beneath angelic wardenship, were ranged
Far to the left of the consuming fire
Burning around the central throne, and there
In speechless horror waited, till the Judge
Should summon each to His eternal bar.

But first Messiah spake again, His voice
Resounding from the jasper walls of heaven
To hell's profoundest caves. And lo, the Deep
Grew darker at the summons. Hades shook
Through all her strong foundations, as of old
Sinai beneath the feet of God. Nor now
Was key or loosen'd bar or facile bolt
Needed to ope her adamantine doors;
For, as it seem'd, the firmament, which arch'd
That prison of the damn'd with lurid gloom,
To right and left was rent: and Death and Hell
With dreadful throes agonizing groans
Disgorged their dead, the lost of every age,
In myriads, small and great confusedly. These,
As shivering on the bare expanse they stood,
Ejected prisoners but not escaped,
The angels in dead ominous silence led
Back to their mother earth, where waited each
His ruin'd spirit's tenement, made fit
To' endure the terrors of the wrath to come,
The body of his sin, and from his hour
The body of his everlasting woe.
Thus clothed with shame not glory, came they forth
From graves innumerable by land and sea,
And took their station, so the Judge ordain'd,
Behind the accursed angels, who first sinn'd
And, as was meet, must first receive their doom.

Hades was empty. Not a sound or sigh
Or whisper of a living thing was heard
In the sepulchral air. That gloomy prison
Had done its work. And suddenly, behold,
What seem'd its floor or solid adamant
Heaved, - as in Zembla's seas at summer prime
A mighty floe of ice disruptured heaves
Beneath the chafing tide, and in an hour
Its glens and bergs and frozen fastnesses
Break in a thousand fragments, the vex'd waves
Betwixt them washing to and fro. So now,
As it appear'd, the keystone of that crypt,
Which overarch'd the fiery gulf below,
Was crush'd: and like a sinking dome, the vault
With rout insufferable and hideous noise
Fell sheer into the bottomless pit. But huge
As was that ruin, loom'd more huge, more vast
That shoreless fathomless abyss of fire,
Which swallow'd up in its remorseless waves
Whatever lay beyond the mighty gulf
Coasting the triple wall of Paradise.

Meanwhile on earth the quick tempestuous flames,
That overthrew the rebel armies, spread
From fell to forest, and from clime to clime,
From shore to shore, from island to isle,
And burning continent to continent;
While from beneath the ocean lava floods
Surged up until the very waters roll'd
Aflame; and clouds of smoke and seething steam
Darken'd the sky - a space: then I beheld,
And lo, the firmamental heavens themselves
Were kindled, and the primal elements
Melted with heat, and one vast sea of fire,
Its waves darting their hungry tongues aloof,
Baptized the unregenerate earth in flame.
One land alone, - like Goshen, when the shroud
Of palpable darkness wrapt the Memphian plains,
Sunnings its pastures in the smile of God, -
One land remain'd unscathed, and over that
Nor firebrand shot, nor smell of burning pass'd.

And there in heaven, immediately above
The holy hills of Zion as it seem'd,
Though peradventure airy semblance veil'd
A distance greater than the solar orb,
When now the blasts of lightning wrath were spent,
From out the dazzling glory' at last emerged
The likeness of a great white throne, more bright
(If time may render such similitude
To mysteries not born of time) that when
A vaporous sea of mist, shrouding the Alps
From Viso to the far Tyrol, an hour
Ere sunset, lifts its giant gloom, and melts
In showers, save where the victor king of day
Rides on the uppermost ravine of cloud
And brightens it to brightness till it glows
Whiter than light itself. And on the throne,
When strengthen'd by the Spirit I look'd, behold
One seated, from whose unveil'd face the earth
As mantled with its former robes, and heaven,
Its azure curtains shrivelling like a leaf,
Melted as melts a dream o' the night. But lo,
Before the throne in countless millions stood
New risen the dead, all of them, small and great,
Speechless with terror, by the angels soon
Far to the left reduced: while on the right
Advanced the saints in blissful multitudes;
And round about the throne were seraphim
And cherubim of glory, and the chiefs
Of the celestial host; meanwhile the rest
Stretch'd like a fringe of light beyond the saints,
Beyond the ruin'd dead, beyond the spirits
Accursed in concentric walls of flame.
And then and there the likeness as of books
Before the awful Presence of the Judge
Was seen, the massive chronicles of time,
The law, the Gospel, and the book of life.

This the last open'd was first read. And as
The names engraven on its crystal leaves
Fell singly from Messiah's lips, the saints
From martyr'd Abel to the youngest babe
Caught heavenward for the joy of His espousals
Their blood-wash'd robes purer than driven snow,
Garlands of amaranth. And one by one
The beams o' the Divine glory seem'd to rest
On each: and in the twinkling of an eye,
In sight and audience of the universe,
That one became the object, whereon all,
Forgetful of themselves and all besides,
Gazed. Not the faintest film of guilt remain'd
Beneath the scrutiny of Perfect Love,
Such was the virtue of His blood, and such
The lustre of His seamless robe of light.
But every thought, and word, and act of grace,
Writ in the book of His remembrance, shed
A halo of such radiant holiness
O'er every member of the mystic Bride,
That all, not saints alone but seraphim,
With shouts of lofty joy congratulant,
Nor seraphs only, but the lost perforce,
Both men and devils, as the Son of God
Proclaim'd the righteousness of saints, and placed
A crown of glory on the brow of each,
Echoed the verdict of the Throne, Amen.

Those numbers had no number: but ask not
How long their judgements lasted; for methinks
Time and its ages then were felt to be
Creatures of the Eternal, in whose Eye
And Presence moments are as years, and years
As moments. But to me at least it seem'd
Only the fragment of a day, before
The latest saint received his blest award;
And the King stooping from the snow-white throne
Held forth the sceptre of His grace, dove-tipp'd
(As once of yore Ahasuerus calm'd
Young Esther's beating heart), and bade us touch
The symbol, and draw nearer while He spake:

'Come, all ye blessed of My Father, come
Inherit ye the royalties and realms,
Ere the foundations of the world were laid
For you prepared and destined. Heirs of God,
Joint heirs with Me, receive your heritage;
Come ye, who bore My cross, and wear My crown;
Come share My glories ye who shared My griefs;
But first assessors to My throne abide,
The while I judge Mine enemies and yours.'

So saying, He drew us nearer to His side,
And placed us on His glorious right. O scene
Of solemn unimaginable awe!
Ere this, though nurtured in Millennial wonders,
The saints were with themselves absorb'd, nor dared
Look otherwhere than on their peers and Judge.
But not it seem'd we were again the Bride,
And seated by the Bridegroom's side; for lo,
The likeness as of countless thrones appear'd
Which was Messiah's judgement-throne - nor think
Room wanting in that vast sidereal dome -
Each in its order'd place, tier above tier,
Rank above rank, so marvellously set,
Or such the virtue here of sight and sound,
We saw the shades that pass'd on every brow,
We heard the whisper of the faintest sigh.
Before us first the hosts of rebel spirits
Under angelic wardens: next to these
Their miserable victims, of mankind:
And still beyond them angels numberless:
Beside us, to the right hand and the left,
The diverse glories of the stars: and far
Below our feet our mother planet, earth,
Glow'd in the embers of her final fire,
Except the solitary land conceal'd
Beneath the shadow of the hand of God.

And now the Anointed Judge, fronting the left,
Summon'd the apostate spirits one by one
Before Him. Face to face with us they stood,
Whom they had wrestled with in dubious fight
And plied with hellish crafts in pilgrim days.
Dreadful it was to see them now unmask'd,
And, as the story of each appear'd, to learn
What poisonous arrows they had shot, what snares
Had strew'd, what pitfalls of iniquity
Had digg'd for us, albeit Heavenly Love
Led our unwary footsteps safely home.
Now we beheld the secret springs of ill
Which moved the mighty drama of the world,
And saw how often proud infatuate men,
Like Ahab by the lying fiend beguiled,
Were dupes of hell. On each the judgement fell:
As he had sinn'd, so was to each the weight
And measure of eternal punishment,
Weigh'd in the scales of Perfect Equity,
Poised to the small dust of the balances,
And meted to a gossamer's viewless breadth;
And with such clear necessity adjudged
By One, whose long forbearance had been drain'd
To the last drop, by Love, Almighty Love,
Uttering its slow irrevocable words
In tons of wrath so strangely blent with grief,
So calm, so true, so just, that even the damn'd
Could only answer, 'Thou art righteous, Lord:'
And, as the awful sentence fell on each
Of chains and everlasting banishment
To his own portion in the lake of fire,
As by the Spirit of holiness compell'd
We and the blessed angels said, Amen.

The Arch-tempter was reserved for judgement last.
Silent he stood. Upon his haggard brow
Nor hope nor fear was visible, nor guile,
Nor lust, nor hate: an utter blank it seem'd,
A passionless vacuity of thought:
But when the concentrated light of God,
As sunbeams in a burning-glass condensed,
Fell on his naked spirit, it touch'd, it woke
The dormant sense within him; and a man
Stifled was heard; and mighty shudderings
Shook his colossal frame: for in that light
His pride was despicable littleness,
His wisdom idiot folly, and his lies
Rent cobwebs in the torturing glare of truth.
And now the strong was weak, the haughty' abased,
The rebel crouching at his Conqueror's feet,
The shameless clothed with everlasting shame.
Prostrate he fell before the throne; and there,
In sight of all, Messiah on his neck
Planted His burning heel, and in the act
For ever crush'd the accursed Serpent's head.
Life not extinct, but crush'd; and sin not slain,
But bruised and ready for a second death:
I look'd again; and lo, among his own,
Convict and chain'd, the strengthless Arch-fiend lay.
And for a space no sound was heard. But then
It seem'd the crystal empyrean clave
Beneath them, and the horrid vacuum suck'd
The devil and his armies down (as once
Korah and all his crew, quick as they were,
Sank from amid the camp of Israel)
To bottomless perdition. None escaped.
And, as their cry of piercing misery
From out that yawning gulf went up to heaven,
Standing upon its rugged edge we gazed
Intently' and long down after them; and there
They sank and sank, the forms more indistinct,
The cries more faint, the echoes feebler, till
The firmamental pavement closed again:
And silence was in heaven.

Nor longer pause,
For now the everlasting Son of God
Summon'd the millions of the dead, the lost,
Each to appear before the great white throne.
And lo, the angels round about them urged,
Urged and compell'd obedience, or they
Had gladlier sunk that hour to utter night.
And all the other angels, from their charge
Of the rebellious spirits for aye released,
Disposed themselves around the judgement-seat
In fashion of an emerald rainbow, built
Of loftiest arch what time the sun is low;
Or intermingling with the saints communed
In whispers to the rest inaudible
Of the dread issues of this last Assize.
Of these was Oriel. To my side he flew
And press'd my hand for gladness at my crown,
And, like an elder brother, by my side
Half leaning, ever and anon he spake
With tears of that which pass'd beneath our feet.

Yes, there was Cain the fratricide, the brand
Of murder still upon his brow; and they
Who mock'd the saintly Enoch; and the brood
Begotten of the fallen sons of light,
Giants in sin as size; and they who sank
Blaspheming heaven around the ark they built;
And they who in another deluge found
Untimely burial, Pharaoh and his chiefs;
The rebel sons of Reuben; and the seer
Who loved the wages of unrighteousness,
The son of Bosor; multitudes of slain
From the polluted homes of Canaan;
And he who fell upon the bloody heights
Of Mount Gilboa, Saul the son of Kish;
And crowds of miserable idolaters,
Of whom I mark'd lascivious Jezebel:
Sinners of ever age and every type;
The proud, despiteful, fierce, implacable,
Unthankful, and unholy, and unclean;
And they who lived in pleasure, dead the while;
Haters of God; and whosoever loved,
And whosoever wrought the devil's lie.

Time's river in that awful retrospect
Was flowing swiftly by; when lo, I heard
The traitor's name, and from among the dead
He stagger'd shuddering to the judgement bar,
And eye to eye met Him whose sacred life
He sold for lucre: infinite contempt
Was branded on his brow, who knew at last
Good were it for him had he ne'er been born.
Nero was there; and none appear'd to shrink
More terror-stricken from the face of God;
In vain: and many, who with lighter guilt
Had yet imbued their hands in holy blood,
Nor wash'd them in the only fount: and when
The persecuting priests of Carthage came
For judgement forth, my guardian touch'd my hand
And pointed to a rank of glorious saints,
Far, far aloof, and nearer to the throne,
Where sate the beautiful Perpetua clothed
In amaranthine bloom, though pity fill'd
Her heart with tenderness, her eyes with tears.

Thus pass'd the centuries with ruin vex'd
And visited with wrath: when lo, a name
Startled me, so familiar was the sound;
And Oriel faintly whisper'd, 'It is he,'
As Theodore approach'd the throne and stood
Trembling at that tribunal. Not a trace
Of pride or blasphemous despite survived
Upon his hopeless brow, only despair,
Who now beneath the terrors of God's Eye
For two Millennial days and half a third
Had lain submiss. One hurried glance he stole
Upon a form below us, - could it be
His mother? - but no breath of useless prayer
Escaped his lips, compress'd in agony;
Until the irrevocable sentence fell
Upon him, and methought I caught the words,
'O God, I bow beneath Thy rod for ever.'
And Oriel whisper'd in my ears, 'Amen.
Omniscient Love ordains it. All is well.'

But who of saints or angels could revive
All the dread scenes of that tribunal? Time
In that judicial retrospect appear'd
To bare itself before eternity;
Though as the ages onward roll'd, they each
Yielded an ever larger harvest-field
To the keen scythe of death. But when at last
The period of my mortal pilgrimage
Arrived for judgement, I beheld the forms
Of many I had known from youth to prime,
Sheep, wayward sheep whom I had vainly sought,
Now fronting the Chief Shepherd face to face.
And now the fold was closed: and it was mine
To witness I had call'd in vain. O God,
Thou know'st, Thou only, what sustain'd me then.
Still the dark plots grew darker, as the end
Drew near, and tangled labyrinths of crime
More intricate: all were unravell'd now;
And deeds, scarce trusted to the subtle winds
And whisper'd in the ear with bated breath,
Were now in presence of the universe
Proclaim'd. Rebel ingratitude had kept
Its worst, its blackest for the close of all:
But when the last impenitent, who died
With devils leagued and devilish arms in hand
Fighting against apparent Deity,
Had all received the terrible award
Of Justice, and among their comrades slunk,
Once more was silence for a space in heaven;
Until the Judge arising from His throne
Bent on the countless multitudes convict
His visage of eternal wrath, and spake
In tones which more than thousand thunders shook
The crumbling citadel of every heart, -
'Depart from Me, ye cursed, into fire,
Fire for the devil and his hosts prepared,
Fire everlasting, fire unquenchable;
Myself have said it: let it be: Amen.'
And from the upper firmament there came
A Voice Almighty, 'Let it be: Amen.'
And all the trembling angels said, 'Amen.'
And the pale Bride repeated, 'Yea, Amen.'

God spake, and it was done. Again the floor
Of solid crystal where the damned stood
Open'd its mouth, immeasurable leagues;
And with a cry whose piercing echoes yet
Beat through the void of shoreless space, the lost
Helplessly, hopelessly, resistlessly,
Adown the inevitable fissure sank,
As sank before the ruin'd hosts of hell,
Still down, still ever down, from deep to deep,
Into the outer darkness, till at last
The fiery gulf received them, and they plunged
Beneath Gehenna's burning sulphurous waves
In the abyss of ever-during woe.

All shook except the Throne of Judgement. That,
Built on the righteousness of God, nor shook
Nor faintest tremor of vibration felt:
The Hand that held the scales of destiny
Swerved not an hair's breadth: and the Voice which spake
Those utterances quail'd not, falter'd not.
But when the fiery gulf was shut, and all
Look'd with one instinct on the judgement-seat
To read His countenance who sate thereon,
He was in tears - the Judge was weeping - tears
Of grief and pity inexpressible.
And straightway we remember'd who had wept
Over Jerusalem, and is the same
For ever as to-day and yesterday;
And in full sympathy of grief the springs
Gush'd forth within us; and the angels wept:
Till stooping from the throne with His own hand
He wiped the tears from every eye, and said,
'My Father's will be done; His will is Mine;
And Mine is yours: but mercy' is His delight,
And judgement is His strange and dreadful work.
Now it is done for ever. Come with Me
Ye blessed children of my Father, come;
And in the many mansions of His love
Enjoy the beams of His unclouded smile.'

So saying, as once from Olivet, He rose
Majestically toward the heaven of heavens
In the serenity of perfect peace:
And we arose with Him.

But what of those
Who, from the place of final judgement hurl'd,
Had each his portion in the lake of fire?
No Lethe roll'd its dark oblivious waves,
As some have feign'd, betwixt that world of woe
And ours of bliss. But rather, as of old
Foreshadow'd in the prescient oracles,
The smoke of their great torment rose to heaven
In presence of the holy seraphim,
And in the presence of the Lamb of God,
For ever and for ever. At the first
Nothing was heard ascending from the deep
Save wailings and unutterable groans,
Wrung from them by o'ermastering agony;
But as His Eye, who is consuming fire,
Unintermittently abode on them, -
Truth, cleanness, justice fastening like flame
On all that was untrue, unclean, unjust,
And thus to each awarding his due meed, -
The outbreaks of the rebel will were quell'd,
The quick activities of sin were crush'd,
No word of wrathful blasphemy was heard,
No violence was wrought; but order rose
From that profound confusion unconfused,
Order and forced submission; and ere long
Swaying her sceptre through the lurid gloom,
And curbing every utterance but truth,
Silence assumed her adamantine throne.

Now were the works of Satan brought to nought;
His vast conspiracy dissolved for ever;
Pride, the first fatal lure, abased for ever;
Hell's transient eminence destroy'd for ever;
The haughtiness of man bow'd down for ever;
The lips of idle falsehood seal'd for ever;
Tyrant oppression now oppress'd for ever;
Hatred was still; and murder was no more;
And lust had wrought its latest shame. The germs
Of evil, ineradicable germs
(Grace only in the day of grace has power
To purge the ill, and recreate the good),
Could never strike one poisonous root again
Beneath the curse of God, nor germinate
In that devouring atmosphere of fire:
And, being that repressive fire was there
For ever, Sin the vanquish'd monster lay
For ever powerless in the jaws of Death;
And to our eyes, who saw the light of life
And stood upon the shore of glory, Death
Itself was swallow'd up in victory.

Well I remember, - ages then had roll'd
Out of a measureless eternity, -
Standing with Oriel on that outmost verge
Of Paradise, the lowest court of heaven,
Where once to me a bodiless spirit he spake
Of yesterday: the morrow now long since
Had dawn'd: there standing, suddenly we heard
A voice from an unfathomable depth
(And Oriel touch'd me saying, 'It is the voice
Of hell's dethroned monarch') as it seem'd,
In shame and humiliation infinite,
Making confession to himself and God:

'For ever lost: this is the second death:
Meet end for me who whisper'd in the ear
Of fragile man, Ye shall not surely die.
So flattering falsehood spake to me. Man fell;
And falling, as I knew too well, he died.
The Lord is righteous; I have sinn'd and die.
Lost, lost: nor could I crave it otherwise.
What would I otherwise? escape from chains?
Were not we loosed from prison, I and mine,
And only madly heap'd upon ourselves
Fresh torment by fresh crime? Nay, in our death
Eternal Justice hath alone fulfill'd
The equal sentence of Eternal Love.
Me miserable! freedom were worse than bonds;
And life to me more terrible than death.
Myself alone am cause of all my woe.
Mercy constrain'd the stroke. Left to itself,
My maniac suicidal wickedness
Had still inflicted worse upon itself,
And upon all beneath its cruel rule.
Goodness has hung these chains around my limbs.
O God, I bow for ever at Thy feet,
The only Potentate, the only Lord.
I see far off the glory of Thy kingdom
Basking in peace, uninterrupted peace:
But were I free, and were my comrades free,
Sin mightier than myself and them would drag
Our armies to perplex those fields with war.
Only thus fetter'd can we safely gaze
On that which is the only lenitive of pain,
Virtue and goodness triumphing, and grace
Evolving out of darkness light in heaven.
Thus only to the prisoners of despair
Can Mercy, which is infinite, vouchsafe
Far glimpses of the beauty' of holiness,
Albeit a beauty which can never clothe
Ourselves, the heirs of everlasting wrath.
Woe, woe, immedicable woe for those
Whose helpless ruin is their only hope,
And hell their solitary resting-place.
Lost, lost: our doom is irreversible:
Power, justice, mercy, love have seal'd us here.
Glory to God who sitteth on the throne,
And to the Lamb for ever and for ever.'

The voice was hush'd a moment; then a deep
Low murmur, like a hoarse resounding surge,
Rose from the universal lake of fire:
No tongue was mute, no damned spirit but swell'd
That multitudinous tide of awful praise,
'Glory to God who sitteth on the throne,
And to the Lamb for ever and for ever.'